Comfortably Numb
by dirtyprettything
Summary: ‘Seth knows it’s strange, but one of the first things he does when he finds out Marissa’s dead is call Alex.’ Seth’s grieving process post Marissa, but concerning her. Title by Pink Floyd.
1. Chapter 1

Genre – General/Angst

Format – 3rd person personal

Couplings – Nothing overt, Ryan/Marissa, Seth/Summer, mentions of Alex/Marissa and perhaps some Seth/Alex as this goes on

Warnings – angst, cynicism, slash, character death, bad language, drug use

Other – My OC fanfiction so far hasn't been my greatest work, although I do like my drabbles (check them out) and consequently this is the first longer. This works as a one-shot but if there is some interest I'll lengthen it.

I respect the decision of Josh Schwartz of starting the OC Season 4 five months after Marissa's death so only the people closest to her; Ryan, Julie and Summer, are still heavily grieving. It would have been an almost impossible task to cover everyone's grief; still, it's interesting to consider what happened in those five months after her death to people not as close to Marissa as the aforementioned three, but whose lives had been touched by her significantly. As far as this fiction is concerned, that covers Seth and Alex.

Summary – 'Seth knows it's strange, but one of the first things he does when he finds out Marissa's dead is call Alex.' Seth's grieving process; post Marissa, but concerning her. Title by Pink Floyd, but this has absolutely nothing to do with the song, I just thought it was beautiful juxtaposition. I don't even like Pink Floyd.

**Comfortably Numb**

Seth knows it's strange, but one of the first things he does when he finds out Marissa's dead is call Alex.

Well, that's almost a total lie, even to himself. It's about a week after she dies and he's still mourning, he guesses, although he doesn't really know, because for fuck's sake anyway, he was born and raised in Newport, he's not used to not having things, or having them and then losing them.

And so, it's about a week after Marissa's death and Ryan hasn't come out of the pool house, and Summer isn't answering, listening to or returning any of his calls, when Seth thinks about all the people who were in love with Marissa, and fuck, it's a lot, but Ryan was there and Johnny's dead and obviously Volchock was there and his parents are telling Luke's family and DJ never really counted, and what did Trey care, and presumably Oliver's still locked away in rehab or an asylum or something, so really the only one left was Alex. And Seth felt she, of all of them, had a right to know.

---

And so, it's day nine of the post-Marissa era, and Julie's practically comatose from the sleeping pills and Ryan has been staying out all night every night and Seth has no idea where he goes and he's not sure he wants to, because he looks slightly more worse for wear every time he comes back, and fuck knows where Summer is because she goes out all day too and comes back to stare at the ceiling and pretend to sleep so she doesn't have to see Seth, and hasn't said one word to anyone since the 'I'm sorry…' that changed her life left the doctors lips.

And although Seth does the groceries to free up the parental unit so Kirsten can plan the funeral for Julie, and Sandy Cohen can do what he does best; make the calls to the people who have to know because Neil's got enough on his plate with Julie and Summer and Kaitlin in the house, and although Seth tries to get people to talk, to hurt less, to stop worrying and feeling responsible they all have this look on their face which is a variant of 'Seth, for God's sake, now is not the time' and he knows he's not helping.

---

He's at a loose end, grief-wise and aid-wise, and nothing he and Captain Oats can do seems to be able to stop this extremely surreal situation spiralling further and further out of control. In a sort of tribute to Marissa he's bought a few eighths of pot (not from Kaitlin, because that she wouldn't have been impressed with) and he's smoking a spliff a day just to calm him the fuck down. He reckons it's kind of like honouring her vice with his. But it's with this wholesome, comfy, mellow bubble in his stomach he runs his long fingers over the crisp pages of the phonebook, and in its crackle he hears Marissa's hair in the wind, the impact of her shoes on the gravel of the pier, and then a scream he never heard and a sickening crack he wasn't around to witness and then an image of her eyes, wide and empty and a pool of blood around her matted hair on the tarmac road, all gross like in a horror movie, not like the serene, peaceful, white-clad body he'd seen in the hospital.

And it was K, Kahn, Kaufman, Keating, Keats, Keller, Kelly that his finger drifted over in Orange County.

---

There were 15 entries and he tried every one.

"_Hi, does Alex live here?"_

"_No, I'm sorry, no one by that name lives here."_

And finally, fuck, it's like a stupid ironic movie, as if it's been waiting, mocking him the whole time, on the fifteenth call he makes he gets it right.

"_Hi, does Alex live here?"_

"_Yeah, she does. Who is this?"_

"…_Alex?" _

_---_

There's a long pause

"Seth?" and he doesn't need to affirm, because she already knows. "I uh- I got to go…" she whispers into the receiver, and he knows this is the point at which he's got to react in order to make her stay, but somehow he doesn't and there's a click and a dialtone and a piece of hollow, useless plastic in his hand.

**Fin (perhaps)**

I would like to get at least 10 reviews in order to continue this, so review please : )


	2. Chapter 2

Genre – General/Angst

Format – 3rd person personal

Couplings – Nothing overt, Ryan/Marissa, Seth/Summer, mentions of Alex/Marissa and perhaps some Seth/Alex as this goes on

Warnings – angst, cynicism, slash, character death, bad language, drug use

Other – A/N for chapter 2:  
Hey everyone, sorry it took so long to update, things have been very busy and I never tend to write in chronological order so I have loads of stuff for later chapters, this updating as you go thing is a bit of an experiment for me.  
I know I said 10 reviews, but I decided to jump the gun a little and go for it at 9, because I really do want to continue this story, I was just trying a new method of review-whoring. Continue reviewing, though, and I will continue updating! Welcome to... chapter 2.

**Chapter 2: Comfortably Numb**

She had hung up after that. Seth didn't feel surprised, not really. He hadn't exactly expected it, but as things were even if Alex had told him that she was actually Elvis Presley he wouldn't have felt anything more than a dull flicker of curiosity, so he reckons he didn't _feel_ surprised, even if he was.

Fumbling with the leaflet in his hands entitled 'Coping with Grief', he stares at the almost inappropriately bright letters, and they stare right back at him, mocking him with their superior comprehension of human emotion. It reads;

**Would you describe your feelings as:  
****melancholy  
****angry  
****indifferent**

He'd probably have to put his feelings as closest to 'indifferent' but that isn't it, not at all, not really. Seth wonders how you can quantify grief, and the more he thinks about it the more it seems like a stupid idea. He's not even sure if he is grieving, and neither is he sure of exactly what Marissa was to him, and therefore what the correct and acceptable amount of grief over her death is.

The words enemy, best friends' girlfriend, girlfriends' best friend, ex-girlfriends' ex-girlfriend, family friend, almost siblings, step-aunt and friend jumble around his head, eventually formulating themselves into a list.

She was all of those things, and yet, that didn't quite cover it.

---

It's day twelve of life post Marissa when he gets a phone call.

He barely registers the phone ringing, until suddenly he recognizes 'Soul Meets Body' playing and realises that he hasn't heard that song in a long, long time.

No one phones anymore.

Not Ryan, not Summer, not his parents, not Marissa.

No one phones. It's as if the phone has been systematically phased out of Seth's existence, like a personal liberty in this age of cynicism, little by little, in tiny steps, without him noticing.

He looks at the caller ID. _Unknown_, it says in flashing monochrome letters, but still in Orange County, he flips the phone open.

"Hello?" and there's silence. He tries again. "Hello?"

But he finds himself comfortable in this silent companionship. It feels almost right, amidst the general weirdness of everything these days, to sit in silence with a phantom caller. Seth reckons if he or she wanted to reveal themself they could do so when they chose, and if they didn't, well, that's their prerogative. He doesn't mind, he figures, at least someone seemed to be feeling as lost as he did.

---

"Ryan, Ryan!" Seth calls, pounding at the window of the pool house. He isn't entirely sure why he's doing this, because if Ryan had wanted to talk to Seth it stands to reason that he would have done so by now.

Seth's mouth feels like sandpaper and his heart is pumping unusually slowly and loudly; he can feel it in his ears, like he's underwater.

He's had three joints this morning in the hour he's been up, but only because he was nervous of this confrontation, of letting Ryan down, or at least that's what he tells himself. It's true, he supposes, inasmuch as you can consider anything true, inasmuch as you agreed that subjectivity was capable of providing any kind of 'truth'.

If he were speaking out loud, to Ryan, like he used to, Seth would have been accused of rambling. But he wasn't speaking out loud to Ryan like he used to, and that was why he was here, really, because Ryan had been doing a hell of a lot less speaking out loud than _he_ used to, so much so that Seth wondered whether he was going to drift into some form of negative communication. Like antimatter. Entropy. The Dark Side.

---

So Seth is standing outside the pool house at 7am for a number of reasons; because Ryan will have just come back from his nightly escapades and will therefore be too tired to put up much resistance when Seth refuses to do what he asks and fuck off, and because, fuck, Seth has to do something. Ryan's his best friend, his brother, and someone who isn't quite either but a deeper, more intense combination of the two, and Seth should have taken time out to consider how really beautiful it was, because unless some major damage control occurs fairly quickly terrifying and unknown consequences beyond Seth's control will occur.

"Ryan. Ryan. Ryan, Ryan, Ryan, Ryanryanryanryanryanryan…" repeats Seth, each Ryan accompanied by a pound on the door.

Eventually Ryan, clad in a wifebeater, hoodie and leather jacket wrenches the door open and glares, and Seth isn't sure whether Ryan's anger is directed at him or the morning sunlight.

"Seth." He growls "I need to sleep."

"Where have you been?" asks Seth, before he can stop himself, and clamps a hand over his mouth as soon as he's said it, childishly trying to erase the fact that in true Seth Cohen style, he had just walked point-blank into the elephant they were trying to avoid.

Ryan's face betrays no evidence of having heard anything; he carefully retreats back into the dark of the poolhouse and shuts the door firmly in Seth's face.

---

_I want to live, where Soul meets Body_

_And let the sun wrap its arms around me…_

"Hey, anonymous caller! Do you mind if I refer to you as such? You're the closest thing I have to a friend right now, so you know, it matters what you think. Anonymous caller is good? OK that's great; I can see this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship, man. I tell you though, this is making me feel quite old school pre-Ryan Seth Cohen, because, you know, it involves me and an entirely one sided conversation, because well, Captain Oats was never really much of a talker. I have no idea if you know this, man, but… hey, you know, actually, I don't even know that you are a man, I don't even know if you're human… which is weird actually… Anyway, I have to talk about myself for at least, like, four hours a day, or something within me will explode, and that is why, my friend, I am taking advantage of your sparing use of the English language to trying to decipher what's been going on in my life. Right, so I'm standing outside the pool house at 7am this morning, oh wait, you better get comfortable because this is going to take quite a while… you think I should get some snacks?"

Finally he hears a sigh down the other end of the phone line.

"_Seth, just shut up already!"_

He smiles,

"_I was hoping it was you…" _

**Fin (chapter)**

Please review! I'd like another 10 (or near enough) before the next chapter.  
A little more review whoring; If you are a fan of Seth/Alex, Alex/Marissa or Ryan/Seth read _'What Lies Beneath'_ which you can find on my profile.

Kthxbye  
dirtyprettything


	3. Chapter 3

Genre – General/Angst

Format – 3rd person personal

Couplings – Nothing overt, Ryan/Marissa, Seth/Summer, mentions of Alex/Marissa and perhaps some Seth/Alex as this goes on

Warnings – angst, cynicism, slash, character death, bad language, drug use

Other – A/N for chapter 3: This is the third chapter. Some of the metaphors, similes and other assorted imagery are fairly stoner-y, and this is intentional. There's quite a strong stoner element in this post-Marissa Seth (as many of you have picked up on), yes I _do_ know what its like (oh my God etc) so the stonerisms are accurate, BUT, let me make this clear, I'm not advocating the use of drugs. As you will see by the end of this chapter ;)

Also, I tried, readers, I really, really tried to make this a non Seth/Ryan fic, but the relationship between the two keeps popping back up (I have a disease or something!) anyway, there isn't any _slash_, but there are slashy vibes. I couldn't help myself. I need restraining.

Thirdly, I can see how this is getting a bit tedious for all you Alex fans, all the Ryan stuff going on, and this is another Ryan chapter, so as ch.4 is very nearly ready I hope to post that soon, which will involve more of other characters (if not necessarily Alex). To be honest, I'm not _overly_ happy with the structure atm myself, so I may change a few things around in the chapters, but if I do so I'll put it in the A/N so if you want you can re-read from wherever I've changed.

Ooh and also (this A/N is going to be longer than the chapter if I keep this up) this chapter is dedicated to kissedmetillthemorninglight who has been reviewing all of my fics in a frantic effort to get my butt to update :p thank youuu, and I hope you enjoy it.

**Chapter 3: Comfortably Numb**

Seth takes a deep breath, wonders whether he should have said some dramatic last words, and twists the door handle, walking into the pool house, where he sees Ryan sprawled across the bed, fully clothed.

There's a moment of silence, like a thousand, thousand hours, the moment before the penny drops and Seth… Seth hopes it can go on forever, because as long as there's this tension, this moment up in the air, there's no before, or after, there's just this.

He wonders if he can take this moment, fold it up into little pieces and eat it, blowing it out of his mouth whenever he needed it again.

Now _that_ would be an awesome superpower.

He remembers talking on the phone yesterday.

---

'_Seth look, just go and talk to him if what he's doing all night is bugging you so much.'_

Easier said than done…

'_It's not that, you know… that makes me sound like such a – a Jewish mother, '_

Fuck, he wishes he didn't have to be such a fucking self-absorbed baby about everything, but, you know, he guesses it's the only way he knows how to deal with things.

'_Well it stands to reason you'd be worried, right. He's your best friend, you've relied on him ever since he's got here and now it's your turn to step up, for him to rely on you, and you're not sure whether you're up to the job.'_

She's right, he figured as much as soon as she'd opened her mouth, articulating his feelings of despair and loss towards Ryan into something less abstract.

'_When did you become so wise? Last time I talked to you it was all punk rock and, you know ex-cons on the beach.'_

He was just playing for time, company, he knew better than not to listen to her.

'_Yeah well, times have changed, Seth, you should know that.'_

They had, and for the worse.

'_Thanks for talking to me Alex.'_

He silently willed her not to leave, fuck; he's so overwhelmed, pleading internally.

'_Whatever, I've… I've got to go.'_

_---_

The proverbial penny drops.

"Ryan, look I, you know, I understand if you don't want to talk about what happened, because I'm not sure I want to talk about what happened, and I talk about most things, quite a lot, but I get it if it's too painful or whatever it's just… oh, look, a t-shirt with blood on it, I like what you're doing here, mixing your wardrobe up, you know, adding some old-school Ryan Atwood gritty reality to it, it's very urban decay, but this – this, whatever you're doing to yourself, with yourself, this coping mechanism or crutch or whatever it is, it's not healthy, it's not. I can't sit here and watch you self destruct like this, and I'm not just speaking for myself I know the Kirsten is going out of her mind with worry, but me especially, because… because I can't go on like this Ryan, I need you, and I'm standing here coming up against this blank wall with you and Summer, and, I can survive without her. I love her, but I can, for three years there have been times without Summer, and they sucked in comparison to the times that were with Summer, but I can't tackle Summer on my own and I couldn't survive without you, dude. You're the Wolverine to my Xavier, the Batman to my Robin, because man, I'm just the sidekick, you're the hero, and this comic can't have a happy ending if the hero's beat and down and coming back home every morning at 7 with unidentified bruises, or, well, more unidentified bruises than normal. And I think… I think you need me too."

Ryan has moved. He sits up, looking at Seth dead in the eye, but there's no flicker of life in the gleams of blue.

For the first time since he met Ryan, Seth is reminded of ice, cold and brittle, when he looks into those eyes; usually, whatever the situation, there's a little flicker of amusement, acceptance and affection when it comes to Seth.

There is none now.

Seth wishes he hadn't had another four joints this morning.

"I can't do this… help me Ryan, I need you to react, I need you to talk to me, say something, say anything. I need some assistance here, man, I can't do this on my own, I can't hold together, I need to help you hold together in order to hold together, just… just speak to me, let me in, react, do something. Ryan, Ryan!" Seth almost yells at him.

Things are spinning; fuck.

_whydidIwhydidIwhydidIhavethatlastjoint_

Suddenly the floor lurches and Seth's vision blurs and he stumbles towards the sink in the pool house bathroom. He retches but he hasn't eaten since yesterday and his stomach is empty, it just burns all on his insides, in his throat.

He moans and he retches again, hands clinging to the sink so tightly his knuckles are white, and thinks at the moment he'd take death over how this unbelievably terrible feeling.

He becomes vaguely aware of another body in the small bathroom and can't even see Ryan's outline let alone feel whether hands are holding him. He hopes they are.

_HelpmehelpmehelpmeRyan_

"Help" he gasps before he passes out on the floor.

**Fin (chapter)**

Keep reviewing you beautiful people! Oh, and check out my other fics, you know you want to.


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